


Flowers (undefined)

by windandthestars



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-29 01:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/999003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windandthestars/pseuds/windandthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They bought it sight unseen?"  He's incredulous, a little worried his new neighbors are going to go belly up before they finish moving in.  The old homestead's on good land, but it's been fallow for years.  It's covered in brambles, wild roses, and bright red splotches of poppies.  He doubts whoever bought the place wants to go into the floral business, there's not much of a market these days, but even coaxing a green lawn out of the mess may be too much to hope for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers (undefined)

**Author's Note:**

> Newroom AU. Will owns a winery; Charlie's finally retired and left him alone and life is good, until Mac shows up back in town.
> 
>  
> 
> This fic was born out of a need to see Mac in a field of poppies and Will working with his hands, also alcohol and angst. And in my usual fashion, I ~~blame~~ would like to thank 'Hugo' as well as Vanessa Diffenbaugh's 'The Language of Flowers' for helping this along.

"Charlie, you and I both know you're not stopping by to see how things are going."

"I was in the neighborhood."

"We both know that's not true."

"You're sounding a lot like someone we used to know."

Will eyes him over the top of the glass of lemonade he's holding. He's trying to be diplomatic, Charlie's the reason he has this place after all, but there's work that needs to be done out in the fields and he's not in the mood for this sort of cryptic conversation.

"I had to sign some paperwork. The real estate agent had a couple of questions."

"Tell me you finally got an offer on that old place."

"I did better than that." Charlie grins, tipping his head back to drain the last of his drink.

"You sold it." Will's not sure he believes the words as he says them. The old farmhouse and surrounding acres had been an eyesore for going on half a decade. Nobody wanted it, not when it nestled up next to his winery with it's loud equipment and the traffic from the tourists. "I haven't seen anyone up here poking around."

"They know what they're getting into."

"They bought it sight unseen?" He's incredulous, a little worried his new neighbors are going to go belly up before they finish moving in. The old homestead's on good land, but it's been fallow for years. It's covered in brambles, wild roses, and bright red splotches of poppies. He doubts whoever bought the place wants to go into the floral business, there's not much of a market these days, but even coaxing a green lawn out of the mess may be too much to hope for. "Leona must be a little sad to see it go."

Will's been checking in on the place. He hasn't set foot in the house since, well it's been a while, but he swings by every couple of weeks to make sure local teens aren't turning it into a party house. The land had been in Charlie's family for generations and even Leona, who had come in to take over the flower end of the business, had become attached.

"She's taking it in stride." Charlie shrugs diplomatically in a way that suggest he knows more than he's letting on.

"Don't tell me you finally took my advice and got a bit creative with the listing. Former bed and breakfast, beautiful gardens."

Charlie waves, dismissive, and smiles. "I told you I wanted this place taken care of."

"I remember. You threatened to throttle me when I suggested tearing down the old barn. You always said- Charlie, you didn't. You didn't sell it to-"

"She wanted to come home, Will. She knows the business. She needs a job, a place to get back on her feet."

"She has a home. She has a job hugging pandas in D.C. She doesn't need-"

"It's not the same and you know that."

"Call your agent. Tell them you have a better offer. It'll take me a couple of days to put the money together but-"

"We closed this morning. The power's already on. She's moving in as we speak." Charlie pours himself another glass of lemonade, ice clinking, as Will resist the urge to chuck his across the lawn.

"She's not staying."

Charlie shakes his head and raises his glass. "You're a stubborn bastard, Will, but so am I. Don't forget that. I told Mac to stop by once she gets settled in. She'll know where to find you."

 

 

The days fly by, and with no sign of MacKenzie, he's almost able to forget that she's here, almost. He's been out in the fields supervising the pruning. He trusts Don's eye, but he knows that MacKenzie's arrival has created quite a buzz among his workers and he doesn't want any of them wandering off, not when half of them had already gone to work with Elliot in the shop.

He's irritable and snappy. The hot shower he'd taken had eased the aches and pains the spring rains brought on but it hadn't quieted his grumbling stomach. He hasn't left the farm in days, and while he's normally pretty good about making sure there's food in the house, his kitchen is bare. There's an apple and half a jar of peanut butter in the fridge, leftovers from Elliot's kids last week, but that’s not enough to tide him over.

He doesn't like going into town when there's this much work to do, but unless he's planning on consuming his own inventory he's going to have to make a quick trip.

He stops at the local Byrne Dairy for gas and coffee. It's little late in the day for most of the regulars to be hanging around, but he catches some of the local gossip. No one mentions MacKenzie and he takes this as a sign. Maybe she'd gone back to her posh condo in D.C. He'd never known her to scare easily, even in a house as old and creaky as that one, but then again he hadn't known her to be a lot of things. It wouldn't surprise him if she'd bought the place to humor Charlie. She'd always been sentimental like that. He could live with that.

He's contemplating the other options, hallucinations, Alzheimer’s, plain old insanity, when he hears her skid to a stop at the other end of the aisle. He knows it's her because he's staring right at her. He takes in her mud spattered jeans and the shocked look on her face, despite the fact all the air has left his lungs.

"Will," she squeaks, swallows and wipes her palms on her jeans. "It's good to see you. How have you been? Charlie said-"

"Charlie should mind his own business and you shouldn't be here."

She looks wounded, embarrassed. The store's small enough that even at the other end of the aisle he can see a pink tinge appearing on her checks. "I was going to stop by but I thought I should have something to bring with me a pie or-"

"Play whatever game you're here to play, rip up the beds, and smile wistfully at Charlie. You're not staying."

"Will I-"

"Winters are cold here, Mac. Remember?"

She shakes her head, looks away, but her disappointment's palpable. He's poking at old wounds, aiming to hurt her. It's not pretty but neither are things between them. She can try to explain but he's never going to understand.

They stand where they are. He's staring at her blankly. She's watching him from the corner of her eye. When she speaks her voice is soft but even, firm and resolute. "Charlie's having dinner at his house on Sunday. We're both invited. If you can be bothered to show up, bring a bottle of something nice. He would appreciate that."

 

He's lost half a dozen workers by the time Sunday rolls around and Don's threatening to quit. He'll stay on with Elliot in the store until Will can find someone else, but he's not setting foot in the field and he's not speaking to Will, he's sick of being yelled at like a sullen child. Will is sick of yelling. He's sick of having to shell out raises and put out the fires MacKenzie keeps setting. 

He hasn't seen her since that day in the store, but she's everywhere, in every whisper of the breeze, she's in the water. He's under siege.

He takes the time to dress up for dinner. It's not something he normally does, clean pants and a pressed shirt are the limits of his concessions, but tonight he digs out a tie and fumbles his way through the once familiar knot. He looks ridiculous in his steel toed boots, but he's not about to scuff up his one pair of good shoes walking up Charlie's gravel drive even if it would get the better of MacKenzie.

Leona answers the door, and while she's looking as dour as ever, commenting on his lack of sales over the previous winter, she does have a smile for him when he presents her with the bottle of wine. "It's about time we get a taste of what those old grapes can do."

He nods, playing nice and hangs up his jacket on the hook on the wall. Normally Charlie would have shown up by now and the two of them would disappear into the den, but he's still standing at the foot of the stairs and Charlie's nowhere to be found.

"There's these adorable little cheese puffs in the living room. I'll be right back with a corkscrew and a couple of glasses for this."

The 'adorable cheese puffs' turn out to be MacKenzie's contribution to the dinner that night. She's seated across from Charlie on a low Victorian loveseat, something Charlie had picked up at a flea market and refinished.

She evidently hasn't heard him come in because she's still bent over an old book, skimming through, reading what he assumes are the relevant parts allowed. 

"They're suggesting- Oh, Will." She breathes out, forcing a smile when he takes a seat in the armchair beside Charlie's. "You're here early."

"It's five of seven."

Mac looks surprised, fiddling with the sleeve of her cardigan to check her watch, a quick flash of silver and she's frowning. "I must have lost track of the time. Charlie has such a wonderful collection of old books don't you think?"

"Absolutely." He echoes her sentiment, filling it with false enthusiasm.

She looks down at the book and then glances at him, chastised, before slipping it shut. "I wasn't sure what to bring. There's so much work to do outside I haven't had time to unpack yet. I remembered you liked brie so I brought hor d'ourves. I didn't make them; I just heated them up."

"I figured."

She nods, accepting.

Charlie swirls the glass of bourbon in his hand. "I was telling Mac you were looking to expand the store."

Will scoffs. He had been, but if Don's half as serious as he seems about quitting there's a real chance he won't be able to keep the store open, let alone expand it. He does fairly well locally, with tourists and local restaurants, he has a following farther upstate and throughout New England, but he would love to be able to turn a profit on the farm if he could. "I'm sure it's nothing compared to the gift shops she's used to. There aren't any stuffed tigers or National Geographic books on giraffes. There isn’t an interactive display in the corner or overpriced t-shirts. It's a piddly little farm stand, but it's gold compared to the mess she has."

He's supposed to feel better after his rant, needling her over the phone whenever he had bothered to pick up had always eased the tension creeping up his spine, but tonight it makes him feel dirty and that only pisses him off more.

"It's a beautiful building." She's trying, honestly trying, with a genuine compliment that he can't be bothered to recognize. "I drove by it the other day. I had to stop by the farm supply and pick up a couple of things. Are the windows new? They look absolutely stunning."

She's talking about the large arching panes of glass he had installed along the front of the shop under the roof. They follow the curved shape of the building and flood the shop with natural light even on the greyest of winter days. He shrugs. He'd had them put in last fall, once the season had ended and things had slowed down. He figures she doesn't know that though. They could have been there for years. He could have had them put in the day after she left. He honestly doesn't care what she thinks.

"He hired some out of towner." Charlie fills in, still disgruntled that Will hadn't farmed the work out to a local. Will wasn't against hiring the guy he went to high school with, but with a job that big, with so much capital on the line, he had wanted it done right. "I'm sure he could give you the number. It looks like the farmhouse could use a bit of work."

Mac worries her bottom lip, still watching him and not Charlie. "They should hold through the summer. I'm more worried about the roof to be honest. Three years without anyone tending to it. That can't be good."

He had spent hours shoveling snow off that roof, but he doesn't mention that. He's not about to get any thanks for it and Charlie certainly doesn't seem to mind one way or another.

The conversation goes on without him, twisting and turning until Leona appears proclaiming dinner to be ready. It’s a brief respite, not nearly long enough for Will to get his head together and stop acting like a dick, but at least he can try and keep his mouth full and his conversation with Leona light.

 

 

"Don." He's getting sick of yelling, but he's not going to stop until he gets a response. It's nine am and the lights from the night before are still on, the small parking lot empty. "Elliot!"

There's a skittering in the corner as one of the barn cats shoots out from its hiding place, disturbed by all the noise he's making. "The shop was supposed to be open an hour ago."

"Will?" It's her voice again, quiet and unassuming.

"What?" He's pissed and annoyed and he doesn't mind one bit that he's now pissed and annoyed at her until he catches sight of her face. She looks frightened, not scared of him, but startled and confused, like she's not quite sure who he is.

"Charlie asked me to bring this by. He said it was important. When you weren't at the house-" She holds out a stack of brown envelopes and he snatches them from her. He really wishes the bank would get his address right. There were three houses on the main road, one of which was his. They had a one in three chance but they never seemed to pick the right number.

"You should have left them at the house. They're no use to me here."

"I could-" she suggests, pointing back toward the door but he shakes his head. He may want her to leave and but he's not about to send her out running errands for him.

"I'll get to them later. Whenever the fuck Don or Elliot decided to show up."

"They're not here?" She sounds concerned despite the fact he's pretty sure she's never met Elliot and forgotten Don.

"I don't know." He frowns and she nods, looking perhaps a little amused at his insistently sour attitude. 

"They're supposed to be running the shop?"

"Does it look like I am?"

"I could stay. You have other things to do and I wouldn't mind a break from pulling weeds, at least for the morning anyway. It would give you some time to figure out what's going on."

"I'm not paying you."

"That's ok, just make sure there's someone here to cover for me for lunch."


End file.
